


Silver Glinting Light

by gala_apples



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, BDSM, Bondage, Established Relationship, Everyone at Rooster Teeth is Bisexual, First Time, M/M, initial kinkshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Blaine doesn't intend to stumble on Jon and Jeremy doing... that. He also doesn't intend to get drawn into the lifestyle himself. Things just get a little out of hand.





	Silver Glinting Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'bondage' prompt for seasonsofkink.
> 
> This idea was sparked the second I saw a photo of the four of them posing together. If you want to see it, [here it is](https://gala0apples.tumblr.com/post/183350912047/posting-a-fic-inspired-by-this-photo-tonight).
> 
> Also, most of the toys described have links to visuals. NONE OF THE LINKS ARE WORKSAFE. Click at your own risk.

Once Blaine is safely bunkered in catering, heart beating a mile, he takes out his phone. He’s got DID YOU KNOW JETEMY AND J9N ARE FUCKINH? typed out to the Live Action slack before he comes to his senses and deletes it. If _he_ didn't know, as someone close enough to Jon to hang out outside of work, then Blair probably doesn't know, and Yuki and James almost definitely won't know. And it's the kinda thing Jon and Jeremy probably want to be kept a secret. Not just the fucking, though last time he checked social media only Jon’s out as bi. It’s the whole... thing. Jesus was that a thing. 

Denied his normal destress routine of venting loudly, he’s left with little recourse. For a while Blaine’s probably super awkward. It’s hard to judge if a current reaction is normal when you’ve never studied your previous interactions, but he’s pretty sure he’s failing. Every time he looks at Jon he sees flashes back to his face smeared with come. Therefore, every time he sees Jon he blushes. Which is _stupid_ because it's not like facials are even that kinky. They’re in like seventy percent of porn. But Jon’s not supposed to be in porn, or at least not outside of the rumours. Gavin does like to film shit, after all.

Interns turned employees tend to be kind to new interns. They’ll share tips for wifi hotspots, provide local resources for the newest dumb crap someone needs that there’s not enough time to order online. Maybe most importantly, ex-interns share important gossip about long term personalities at Rooster Teeth. Just like people whisper about Aaron these days, it’s an open secret that in the early days Jon had sex with any dude with a set of headphones. He didn't get into Achievement Hunter not because he was a crap video game player but because he'd had sex with every guy in already in AH, and they didn't want it to turn into a Yoko thing. It's totally possible Jon would have been up for a gangbang situation, but Michael and Jack were the possessive type. So Jon in flagrante makes sense, to an extent. If Blaine wants to be super bitchy he can say that Jon was just completing the set. But Jeremy? _Jeremy_?

For a few days he even tries to convince himself that it wasn't Jeremy. It's remotely conceivable that someone else at Rooster Teeth is bald and that short, right? Visually he’s grasping at straws, but logically there’s no way that Jeremy goddamn Dooley is into that kind of shit. 

Blaine’s in such a motherfucking tizzy about it that it takes very little for him to break. Specifically it takes Miles inviting him over to play Smash Bros with Kyle and Cole, drinking about five sips of blueberry ale, and getting cornered in kitchen about why he’s been weird the last few days.

“I walked in on Jeremy coming on Jon's face.”

“Uh...huh?” Miles’ voice does that thing where the latter syllables go squeaky high pitched, and Blaine’s not sure if Miles actually thinks he’s crazy and full of shit, or if Blaine’s projecting, but either way the whole story comes out.

“It wasn’t just a facial. Not like normal porn stuff. Jeremy’s arms were behind his back. Like fully. Like not just stretching, he was wearing these [sleeve things with buckles](https://www.extremerestraints.com/premium-leather-locking-arm-splints.html). There were at least ten locks involved. And my brain went ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god,’ and my arms went flail, but my dick went instant erection. And my dick seemed to have control of this situation, which makes me super uncomfortable, but not for the reason you think.”

“And why do I think you’re uncomfortable?” Miles asks. There’s something in his voice, and Blaine gets it. It’s 2019 in Austin, nobody likes a homophobe.

Blaine presses his hip into the counter and crosses his arms. “I don’t care that they’re gay, or pan or whatever. That I find them attractive. I’m queerer than I thought, big fuckin’ deal. What freaks me out is that I liked the weird hardcore shit they were doing. I’ve seen stuff like that, accidentally clicking the wrong porn. It’s violent and mean, and I might be a super masculine macho dude, but I can’t be the dude who’s into degrading people.”

Strangely, Miles’ tense tone doesn’t much change. “And that’s what you think bondage is about? Degrading people?”

Too late Blaine remembers the fan furor after Miles spoke about being into dom stuff on Always Open. Fucking hell, why does he keep fucking up life this hard? Of all the people he could have spoken to, he picked the one guy practicing what Blaine’s just shit-talked.

“I mean... Not always, I guess?”

“Fucking-” Miles sighs. “I think-” He sighs again, this time pinching his brows. “I’m going to regret this, but follow me.”

Blaine wonders what, exactly, Miles’ plan is as they walk down the hall. He doesn’t have long though, before Miles is stopping in front of his closed bedroom door and turning the brass knob. Blaine’s been in Miles’ bedroom once or twice. Borrowing a hoodie after getting caught in a sudden rainshower on the way over. Retrieving a charger that Miles is too lazy to get up and get in the middle of a gaming session. He’s never been in here under any context involving sex, though. It’s weird how things look different, all of a sudden. The dark wood looks sultry instead of just being stylishly Ikeaian. The low lighting of a single bulb in the ceiling now seems like mood lighting, not cheapness on the builder’s part. Even the puffy blue comforter is beckoning in a way it wasn’t before.

The bed is where they end up. Miles’ laptop is closed on the left side of the mattress, he must be a right side sleeper. Miles flings himself on the sheets and balances the MacBook on his knees. There’s no gesture, no vocal cue, but Blaine gets on the bed. What else is he going to do, pace? 

“There was this guy, Stephon. His biggest kink was photography, being a model and showing himself off to others. We’re not together anymore, but it was amicable as hell. He told me to keep all the pictures I took of him, and if I ever wanted to watch porn with a date, think of him. This is the first time I’ve actually looked at them.”

Blaine watches as Miles opens a folder within a folder within a folder. Not in a hiding something shamefully way. The string starts on his desktop, for fucksake, and each subfolder is clearly labelled. Blaine would put his money on Miles’ data structure being based on work. The last folder leads to a scroll and a click, and there it is, on screen. Proof of Miles being domineering and kinky. Oh, and super gay, though Blaine’s known about Miles’ bisexuality for a while now. Another intern tip when he signed up for Rooster Teeth- Miles and Kerry’s somewhat messy breakup.

This ‘Stephon’ character is not the black haired baguette eating Frenchman Blaine conjured up the instant he heard his name. Real Stephon is redheaded, a puffy mess of loose curls like Isaac Lahey from that Teen Wolf show his sister loves. He’s pale and glowing like white satin sheets. In the picture he’s standing with thumbs hooked into the black elastic of striped black and green boxer briefs. Miles gives Blaine a beat to look at it, then clicks to the next photo. In this one Stephon is on the bed, still wearing his boxers. His thumb is pulling his lower lip down, inviting something to push into his mouth.

The third picture is where things start to tie in to Blaine’s predicament. Stephon has his legs up, knees halfway to his chest. But he’s not holding them there. He’s forced to have them there. Stephon’s got both his legs wrapped tight in a [black leather cuff](https://www.extremerestraints.com/open-wide-padded-thigh-sling-position-aid.html). The cuffs start just above the knee and go on for inches, thick bands of gleaming black against milky skin. The thinner part of the cuff elongates into adjustable belts, and keeps on until they disappear behind Stephon’s neck.

The fourth picture is Stephon deepthroating his index and middle fingers. Fifth is a close up on his erection beneath the green and black undies, the exact shape and length of it in glorious relief. The sixth, there’s a tear in Stephon’s boxer briefs, exposing his ass. A tear, or a slice. Blaine’s not sure what’s hotter, the idea of Miles ripping into Stephon’s clothes in wild passion, or him having a knife and slitting the fabric to get what he wants.

“Raunchy Pornhub shit, okay. Some of it’s fucked. But come on Blaine, tell me that I was violent and mean to Stephon. Tell me that Jon Risinger was mean to Jeremy. Really.”

He wonders if Miles fucked Stephon through that tear. He can picture it, and it makes Blaine bite his lip. His lower stomach fills with fire, radiating out to his chest and dick. He was ashamed to be the jock who’s into degrading people, but this is different. This feels different. He’s imaging himself on the wrong side of it. He doesn’t want to be fucking Stephon. He thinks he wants to be Stephon. How fucked up is that?

“Can I see it?”

“What?”

“Like, did you keep it when you two broke up?”

“The thigh sling? I mean, I have it.”

“Can- Come on man. Just-” It’s hard to articulate this. Way harder than it is to talk about embarrassing stories streaming live on the Podcast. 

Thankfully Miles doesn’t make him suffer. He gets off the bed and opens one of the three sets of double doors that line his entire wall. The other two are full of clothes, Blaine knows that from borrowing dry clothing. The closet closest to the door, on the other hand, is full of gear. There’s an innocent Ikea closet organiser that’s been filthed up. Dildos sit on the shoe rack. A few black articles of clothes hang from the shirt rack. And there it is, coiled up on a shelf. The thigh sling. Miles picks it up and brings it back to the bed.

Despite himself, Blaine is touching it in nanoseconds. The leather is cool on his fingertips. Cool and slick. The buckles have about twelve holes, adjustable for anyone. For _anyone_.

“Blaine... Don’t freak out, okay?” Miles’ gentle voice is putting Blaine on edge. What exactly is he trying to be coaxing for. “But do you want to try them?”

Of course he ends up trying the sling. Blaine is unconcerned about Cole and Kyle in the living room. He’s sure that Miles warned them he was going to try a Blaine’s-being-weird intervention. There’s no way they get off the couch to interrupt that. They’ll stay playing Smash Bros until Blaine and Miles come back, no matter how long it takes. Dignity is the only reason not to try it, and living the company life has taught him that’s not a good enough reason to not do something.

The leather is smooth on Blaine’s skin. It starts cold and warms up from his own heat, a temperature reversal from his dick and taint starting warm and cooling from exposure. He’s never felt this revealed before. He’s not losing his ass virginity or anything. He’s had adventurous girlfriends in the past. It’s still very new, very different. He’s stretched and bare and so open. It takes all the courage he has to keep his legs in the sling. Forget any stupid ideas he’d had about power dynamics before. Blaine feels strong, not weak.

When Miles starts to fuck him a laugh bubbles up that he does his best to suppress. It’s just it’s the first time Blaine’s felt balls swing against his ass. Even the very best of dildos don’t have realistic nutsacks, just rubbery hemispheres. It’s something Blaine didn’t know he was missing until it was present. It rapidly moves down the list of sensations though, until it’s about fifth or sixth place. Occupying the first spot is Miles himself. He’s so concentrated. He’s clearly horny, but he’s one of those people who get off on getting their partner off first. Blaine never really considered that nurturing characteristic a BDSM thing, but Miles is so intense now Blaine can’t label it anything else. The leather encircling his thighs is firm and tantalizing. And of course there’s the feeling of being peeled open over a cock, like an orange on a juicer. 

When the fuck is done, the sling discarded on the other side of the bed, Miles tucks in for a good cuddle. Blaine considers that one hundred percent unsurprising. He’s touchy with every casual acquaintance, and more so with friends. Of course Miles is the kind of dude that snuggles after sex. And there’s definitely the vibe of _after_ , of let’s move on to the next thing. Blaine’s asshole is still occasionally twitching, but he gets how sex with a dude would be a one-n-done. Two people come once. Very efficient, compared to a girlfriend wanting to fuck for hours over multiple orgasms. If a tiny part of Blaine’s brain is whispering that he’d give anything to still be getting filled by Miles, well, Blaine’s going to shove it down and maintain some level of respectability.

Prompted by Miles informing him he’s been sketchy as shit, Blaine makes the decision to be a motherfucking adult and talk to Jon. Naturally, it goes wildly off course. They’re grabbing coffee at the same machine when Blaine blurts out, “so I don’t know if you know, but I walked in on you and Jeremy. So if I’ve been weird that’s why. But Miles has gotten me over it, so we should be okay now.”

Jon frowns. “You needed to get over me having a boyfriend?”

“No. Why does everyone think so? No. I needed to get over you being into BDSM. But it’s not that weird, or at least it’s okay to be weird. So yeah. Uh, sorry if I’ve been weird, but it’s done now.”

Jon takes a sip of coffee and says evenly, like he’s not rocking Blaine’s foundations, “did Miles put you on his knee and spank the worries out of you?”

Blaine laughs nervously. He’d hate to call it a giggle, but it’s close. “Uh, what?”

“I’ve seen this before. A big strong muscley guy fall apart under a certain touch. It’s my type. So I’ll ask again. Did Miles Luna spank you until you were as red as a Nice Dynamite shirt, and babbling madly with a dripping cock?”

Jon asks like he wants to be answered. Blaine’s a little distracted by knowing Jon’s been with both members of Nice Dynamite, and wondering who was a better submissive, Michael or Gavin. Still, he’s able to answer, “uh, no. But there was this gear that held my legs apart. Like, leather. It was like doing leg day on the heaviest weight, spread and straining but not moving. ”

Jon puts his hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “That’s really hot, Blaine. You should come to my office.”

It feels like it should be crunch time. This is the moment where he decides what he’s going to do, what kind of person he’s going to be. Except Blaine doesn’t feel like he’s making some irrevocable decision. It barely feels like a choice at all. Jon wants him to go to his office, and so he does.

Jon closes and locks the door. As he double checks that there are no cracks in the blinds he says, “before you worry, yes Jeremy and I are committed, but we can scene with other people. You want to text him, ask him?”

“No, that’s okay.” If that’s how BDSM relationships work, then that’s how. No wonder Miles didn’t say anything about when they’d hook up next. There’s no sense of urgency when you can sleep with multiple people.

Jon opens a drawer and puts a roll of tape and a pair of weirdly designed scissors on his desk. Clearly he and Jeremy have made a routine out of having kinky sex at work. Blaine shudders to think of all the times he’s been innocently walking down the hall while Jeremy’s been tied up in Jon’s ropes, only shitty old curtains separating them.

“Bondage tape,” he explains. “It’ll only stick to itself. And safety scissors, in case you’re suddenly not into it. Which I’m sure Miles already gave you the speech, but it’s fine. You can opt out whenever.”

“Yeah.” Miles did not, in fact, give him any kind of consent lecture, but Blaine figures it was implied. Miles isn’t the kind of guy to not take no for an answer. Miles is a decent human being. So’s Jon, for that matter.

“But if you’re staying for now, I want you to drop your pants and underwear but leave them on.”

He’s in this far, he’s not going to stop now. Blaine unzips his jeans and lets them fall to his calves. It’s the last active participation he can offer, however. As he stands there Jon begins to wrap a bountiful length of tape around Blaine’s wrist. Not that he didn’t trust Jon, but it’s now confirmed, bondage tape isn’t like duct tape. It feels smooth and cool, though he assumes it’ll warm up with his body heat. 

After checking in that it’s not too tight, Jon wraps what’s left of the piece around Blaine’s thigh. Blaine tests the restriction instinctively, attempting to pull his wrist up, and flexing his hamstrings. He wishes a little that the partial immobility didn’t make him immediately hard, but he’s mostly accepting of his newfound kink. Like he told Jon, Miles fixed him. 

Jon’s next move is to mirror the tape on Blaine’s right wrist and thigh. That leaves Blaine stretched out in an A, the bottom of his t-shirt obscenely skimming his neatly trimmed pubes. His palms are flat against his legs, no choice about that. The worst of it -the best of it- is the way the layers of tape land right under his asscheeks, pushing them up like a bra on a woman. Blaine’s got complex feelings about the spotlight, and his appearance in said light. It’s impossible to say what it feels like, being posed like this.

“If I was real mean, I’d make you stand here awhile first. Lucky you, I’m so nice.” Blaine knows if he was a holy soul, Jon’s lecherous smile wouldn’t be making his cock weep. Luckily he’s already forded the Not A Pure Person River, about the time he applied for an internship. It’s difficult to be concerned about his moral turpitude when he’s arranged dick first in front of a guy he’s seen with jizz on his face.

Proving his self-lauded charity, Jon grabs Blaine’s dick and gives him a few strokes. Blaine instinctively rocks forward into the grip, only to realise how off balance he is without the use of his arms. The more Jon touches him the harder it is to keep his footing, which adds to the thrill of the situation.

“I don’t know how talkative Miles was. He’s hot, obviously, but I’ve never hooked up with him. Two doms together doesn’t work, I’m sure you get it. Did he tell you how hot it is to have someone all trussed up?”

“Uh...”

“Because really, it’s like the best thing. I could do anything to you. Macho guys don’t like backing down. They never do. I could do anything... I... wanted.” Each of the last words is followed by a pinch of Blaine’s skin. Nipple, rib cage, pelvis. The fact that he likes the flares of pain is a whole new addition to this change in personality. Reveal in personality? It’s not like he was never agitated by BDSM, it just used to conceal itself in holier than thou revulsion.

“Shit, yeah.”

Jon grins one of his thousand watt grins. “I love jocks, you’re all the fucking same. So fuckin’ hot.”

How can Blaine take that as anything but a compliment?

It’s not the first time in Blaine’s life it’s been a relief to be a silent comer. Even beyond the living at home years it’s come up. Spending Christmas break at a girlfriend’s house, for one. And there was that time in the library stacks at university. This experience might top it all though. An orgasm at work is completely mental. Even if Jon and Jeremy have been doing it once a week, it’s still the peak of Blaine’s game.

It doesn’t quite end there, though. Jon still has to get off, after all. Again, Blaine is less hands on than he’d like to be. And by that, he means he can contribute literally no hands. Good thing Jon is a thinking outside the box kind of guy. Blaine finds himself getting grinded upon, Jon’s cock rutting against his asscheeks. It’s a unique sensation, the hot stuttering slip of a wet dick between his buns while layers of tape lightly bite into the underside of his cheeks.

The removal of the tape is quick. Efficient and safe in a way Blaine has rapidly come to expect from Jon. The full body, spent dick to spent dick hug, not so much. Not that Blaine expends any effort trying to get away. It’s nice. As nice as it was with Miles, if briefer.

“Text me if you have any subdrop, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine agrees. No, he has no clue what that means. If he thinks it’s suddenly about to apply, he’ll Google it.

Hours after he had sex with Jon in his office, Blaine hasn’t gotten a bit of work done. Not one iota. He has a document open, and that’s about it. The more Blaine thinks about it, the more he’s worried. He might have cheated on Miles. Sure Jon and Jeremy are cool with it, but they probably had a conversation first. He and Miles didn’t.

He’s not going to get a single fucking thing accomplished until he talks to Miles. That much he’s sure of. As awkward as it’s going to be, Blaine’s going to have to talk about boundaries. And it wouldn’t hurt to know what Miles expects of him, being far more experienced. So he texts **we have to talk** , and shows up where Miles tells him to.

There’s no way to blunt what happened, so Blaine just goes for it. “I know we just had our first date, but I kind of had sex with Jon. But I really am looking forward to our second date, so if that was something I wasn’t supposed to do, I’m sorry.”

“Wait. Back up. You thought that was a date?”

“Uh, yeah.” Though it sounds like Miles didn’t. That is embarrassing as shit. And also confusing. They hung out and they like each other and they had sex. How is it _not_ a date, beside missing a Tinder swipe first? BDSM relationships are even weirder than he thought. 

“Okay.” Miles is making a face. He’s making several faces, and Blaine’s not sure what they mean. Funny how friendship faces totally skew when it’s suddenly the face of a dude you thought you might end up being boyfriends with. “Well, as you can guess, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. No shit.”

“But I’m not against the idea. You’re cute, funny, and I know you can pull an epic romantic gesture. I’ll go on a date with you, a real restaurant and movie one. We can try this.”

Blaine steps forward and holds both of Miles’ hands. “I’m going to spend the rest of the day designing a date that’ll blow your mind like you blew mine.”

“Awesome,” Miles says, genuine smile on his face. Then he breaks the potentially romantic grip to slap a fond hand onto Blaine’s shoulder. “But if your definition of date is mostly ‘sleep with’, then the four of us need to have a conversation.”

Something the accidentally clicked on porn did not prepare him for- the amount of goddamn conversation needed. Still, Blaine agrees with Miles. There’s definitely some things that need to be said to Jon and Jeremy.

Their conversation is not what Blaine anticipated it to be. It’s essentially mutual confirmation that everyone would be happy to fool around -apparently called scening in this community- either again, or for the first time. That and a set time to meet at Jon’s. Blaine would say to work out the kinks, but that means something different with Jon and Miles than it means in a Tuesday morning meeting.

Jon doesn’t quite have a dungeon. It’s not like he has whips hanging from a chandelier and stained cobblestone instead of drywall. There are just a few things making this a space little more than a guest room. There’s not one, but three Wayfair-esque trunks lining one wall. There are anchor rings in the floor if you push the bed to the side. There are a [bunch of nylon straps](https://www.extremerestraints.com/d-luxe-entry-love-sling-with-seat.html) hanging from the top of the door. And most noticeably, there’s this [steel tripod pole thing](https://www.extremerestraints.com/the-forced-orgasm-tower.html) in the corner. It’s got branches for wrist, ankle, and neck restraints, as well as a bar clearly meant to angle something towards genitals. There’s nothing about it that says male only, but all the adjustable dials are set at Jeremy’s height.

Blaine knows of the anchor rings because got both his wrists manacled to a chain locked to a ring. He would be focused entirely on that, on the new and wild bondage, if it wasn’t for the rest of his body. He’s on his hands and knees. Thing is, so is Jeremy. They’re facing opposite directions, giving Blaine the perfect view of Jeremy’s ankles forced apart by a metal bar. It must be what his own legs look like to Jeremy. And they both have no choice but to look at each other’s feet, because they’re latched together at the leg. There are two belt-like leather straps connecting them, one nearly at the hip, the other further down. 

If Blaine and Jeremy are mirror opposites, Miles and Jon are carbon copies. They’re both standing, still in jeans and T-shirts, circling them. They’ve both got expressions that match their postures of confidence and authority. Blaine’s seen Miles pull the ‘I’m going to be cruel and you’re going to like it’ schtick before, like during all the 2spookys, and maybe it’s gotten to him a bit before but it’s different when A: you’re acknowledging that you’re some shade of queer, label undefined but _something_ and B: are naked. Blaine’s lustful anticipation is at a strong ten, instead of past flares of three or four.

“Jeremy and I have been primaries for a while, haven’t we?” 

Jeremy swallows audibly then says yes. Blaine can’t see what Jon’s doing, he’s on the back side of the circle, but whatever it is, it’s working for Jeremy.

“For now, we want to stay primaries. But we’re open to munches, and playing.” 

Miles drops to one knee and grabs Blaine’s balls until his spine arches. Like he’s doing nothing, a chat over a crossword, Miles explains a munch is basically dinner and drinks. Or a lunch. A semi-structured hangout without sex. 

Blaine croaks, “but play is the sex, right?”

Blaine’s not sure how formulaic hanging out and occasional sex isn’t dating, but he’s going to let it go. If he gets everything he wants, what does he care about the exact lingo for?

“We’ll see if you still think it’s sex, by the time we’re done,” Jon says. 

It’s the words of a threat but the tone of a pickup line, and Jeremy’s accompanying whimper makes Blaine trust the system. Jeremy knows what Jon’s capable of. Blaine just has to settle in, find that place in his head that enjoys letting things happen, and see what Miles and Jon have to offer him.


End file.
